Michigan Cider Mill Poem

More about Michigan Cider Mill Poem

In Michigan, as autumn unfolds,
A cider mill, a story told,
Where apples aplenty, hang from trees,
Awaiting their fate, with eager ease.
The air is crisp, with a hint of chill,
As cider mill wheels, turn with thrill,
Crushing apples, into a mash,
Sweet aroma, a fragrant splash.
The press comes next, with wooden creak,
Squeezing juice, so pure and sleek,
Amber liquid, flows in a stream,
A taste of fall, a cider dream.
Families gather, young and old,
To savor cider, hot or cold,
With cinnamon, a spicy note,
And donuts sweet, a special vote.
The orchard, a colorful sight,
With apples red, yellow, and bright,
Pumpkins dotting, the farm fields,
Nature's bounty, a harvest yield.
Kids play games, amidst the trees,
As leaves crunch, beneath their knees,
Hayrides roll, with laughter's peal,
A cider mill, a festive feel.
In Michigan's fall, a cherished thrill,
A cider mill, atop the hill,
Where memories made, and stories spun,
In a season of warmth, and apple fun.